


two blue hearts locked in our own mind

by Unclesteeb



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Casual Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feelings, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unclesteeb/pseuds/Unclesteeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky climbs back into bed with him. He lays on his side and throws an arm over Sam’s belly. He looks happy and satisfied- like Sam feels and for a fleeting moment Sam wonders if he's going to fall asleep here. Even if he does, he won't stay until morning. He never does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two blue hearts locked in our own mind

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr from [ Charlie ](http://bioloyg.tumblr.com/): I wish I could hate you. It kind of spiraled from there!
> 
> Title's from Alessia Cara and Troye Sivan's Wild.

Sam rolls of of Bucky and flops down onto the bed, panting heavily.

After a few seconds, Bucky gets up to throw the condom away and grab them a towel. He rubs it over his own dick and balls before throwing it on Sam’s face. 

“Gross, man.” Sam tosses it on the floor when he's done.

Bucky climbs back into bed with him. He lays on his side and throws an arm over Sam’s belly. He looks happy and satisfied- like Sam feels and for a fleeting moment Sam wonders if he's going to fall asleep here. Even if he does, he won't stay until morning. He never does.

“I wish I could hate you.” And Sam wishes he could swallow the words back up immediately. 

Bucky snorts, “no you don't.” It doesn't come out as strong as Sam thinks Bucky intended. 

“Yeah I do.” Sam says honestly. Things would be a lot easier if he didn't have to feel this way about somebody who only cares about him for sex and the occasional friendly hangout (that normally turns into sex). 

“What would you do all day if you hated me?” Bucky asks, drawing lazy circles into Sam’s chest with a blunt fingernail.

“Not have to see your ugly mug.” Sam says, since the truth hurts a little.

“Well that's true, but you wouldn't get to see my dick either.” 

Sam laughs. “Yeah I'd miss it.”

They're quiet for a moment and Sam closes his eyes and tried to imagine himself squashing all his feelings and pain for Bucky fucking Barnes into a little box. One that he can hide away until later. 

When he looks over to Bucky, his eyes are closed in sleep. He's snoring softly. Sam wants to hate it. Wants to hate his cute snoring and his full lips and his dumb pretty eyes; wants to hate the way his hair’s draped across his nose and is blowing up and down with every exhale. Sam wants to hate Bucky so god damn much he's practically vibrating with the energy to try and do so. He forces himself to take a deep breath, then rolls over and stuffs his face into Bucky’s neck and closes his eyes. He figures he has a few hours before Bucky leaving will wake him. 

 

“You okay man?” Steve asks, stealing one of Sam’s French fries off of his plate. “You look kinda down.”

“Yeah I'm good.” Sam lies, easy as anything. Steve just so happens to be Bucky's best friend as well as Sam's. Bucky and Steve had been friends since they were in diapers. Steve doesn’t know that Sam and Bucky have ever slept together. Sam doesn't think a mopey love confession is the way to start that particular conversation and that’s all he’s capable of right now. “Just tired s’all.”

“Long night?” 

Sam snorts, “You could say that.”

Steve lives in DC now, working some kind of government job, but he still comes up every month to visit with Bucky and Sam. 

Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and covers his full mouth politely, “Me and Bucky are going out tonight. You wanna come?”

Sam kinda startles at the mention of Bucky and recovers by taking a big sip of coffee. “Man, I don't know.”

“Bucky likes you, you know. I know you two aren't as close as you were when I lived up here, but he wants to hang out with you.”

Sam almost starts laughing. Sam doesn't know why Bucky and him haven't said anything to Steve about their...whatever it is, well it might be the whole sex thing, even though they were having sex back then too. Now that Sam thinks of it, they could just say they're hanging out still. That's all it is to Bucky anyway. He contemplates going out with the two of them just to see Bucky's reaction, but then realizes he'd just be making himself miserable. 

“I know that,” Sam says, “but I just kind of want to stay home. I need to get some writing done.”

Steve makes a face and Sam’s refusal but then asks, “How is your book coming anyway?”

Sam manages a bookstore by day, writes his own book by night. “It's...coming.” He says, chuckling. It was going fine until he caught feelings for Bucky. Now all he wants to do is have the two protagonists (who are secret agents) fall in love. That's not what the book is supposed to be about. Sam’s been taking a break. He's okay with it.

Steve gives him a 1000 watt smile, “You can do it. You're a great writer.”

Sam returns it. Steve’s always had a way of making him feel good about himself. He's just so honest. “Thanks, Steve. I'm going to try.”

Maybe it’s Steve’s consistent support that keeps Sam from developing some weird ‘I have unrequited feelings towards your best friend’ resentment against him. It’s his fault Sam’s in this mess anyway. 

He and Sam had met in college. They were assigned as partners in Sam’s first creative writing course. They had to create a children’s book. Steve had turned out to be a pretty amazing artist and a really nice guy. They had made the project their bitch and gotten friendly doing so. Steve asked him to come out the night they received their final grade. That’s the night Sam met Bucky. Sam reads a lot of books. He’s read the description of when someone meets another person that they’ll eventually fall in love with again and again. It’s normally something cheesy, like time slowing down or the rest of the world fading out. Maybe the future love interest is described as ‘the most beautiful person’ that the narrator has ever seen. It was nothing like that when Sam met Bucky Barnes. 

Sure, Bucky was hot, but in the way that the asshole jock football player is hot. You’d stare at his ass if he bent over in front of you, but when he opens his mouth you start the clock until he shuts up again. Bucky was arrogant, annoying and seemed to want to have some dumbass pissing contest on who was Steve’s real best friend. Sam liked Steve and all, but he wasn’t about to see who could slay the biggest metaphorical dragon for him. Sam pegged him early on as some kind of egomaniac with an inferiority complex. He tried his best to soothe the situation when Steve stepped away to grab them another round of drinks. “Hey man, I’m not trying to steal your friend or anything. I don’t know what you’ve heard-”

“What?” Bucky asked. It was kind of slurred. They’d had a lot to drink. 

“I said, I’m not trying to steal your friend or anything.”

Bucky had sighed, all annoyed and _you’re wasting my time_ , “Look man, you gay, bi, experimenting?” 

Sam remembers having a moment of clarity as he shoved Bucky to his knees in a dirty bathroom stall at the bar. He remembers thinking, _what the fuck are you doing Sam_ and _please Sam you’re drunk just go home buddy_ but then Bucky had gotten that pretty little mouth all over Sam’s dick and yeah, the moment of clarity was gone. 

So that’s how this all started. It really was Steve’s fault. 

 

“So let me get this straight.” Misty says, narrowing her eyes at Sam. “You’re moody and nasty today because your pretty white booty call doesn’t love you?”

Sam grumbled and looked up from the computer. He took his black, thick-framed glasses off of his face and set them down on his desk. “Don’t you have work to be doing?” Misty was Sam’s assistant manager, but truly and honestly should be running the place. She probably would be, if the owner of the store didn’t have some weird thing against women. It had taken Sam like, an entire year of begging to get her promoted to assistant manager at all. Misty was an amazing woman, she deserved it. She also probably would have beaten Sam’s ass if he hadn’t tried as hard as he did too. That’s why Sam loves her. She expects the loyalty that she gives. 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sam I know your mama didn’t spend the past 27 years of her life raising you so that you’d fall for a stupid white boy.”

“She didn’t. She raised me to be a heterosexual preacher like my father.” Sam deadpans. 

Misty scoffs, “Come on now. At least you could fall for a black man.”

“I’ve dated more black guys than white guys, Misty.”

“Name one,” she challenges, putting her left hand on her hip. She doesn’t have the prosthetic on the other side today. If she did, Sam expects that she’d have both hands on her hips. 

“Gabe Jones.” Sam says confidently. Misty knows Gabe. Sam and him had dated through Sam’s last year of college during one of the rare times he’d been able to separate Bucky’s dick from his thoughts. It’d been a good two years. Then Gabe graduated from NYU himself and moved out west for work. It had been a cordial split, nobody really at fault. Gabe had come back a year later to visit his family and ended up catching up with Sam at a bar. Steve and Bucky had shown up (after a text from Bucky that read ‘WYA???????????????’ because Bucky is the actual _worst_ ) which lead them all to discover that Bucky and Gabe had dated for years in high school and Gabe’s first year in college. The subsequent threesome between them was definitely a fun time even though Bucky had split in the middle of the night like he always does. Shit, now Sam’s bummed about Bucky again.

Misty sighs, “I don’t even want to know what that beautiful man Gabe Jones has to do with Borky. Please never tell me.”

“It’s _Bucky_.” Sam corrects. Then, “And that’s good because I’m never telling you.”

“Really though, Sam. No good comes out of dating white dudes. Just trust me on that one.”

“Is it because of _Danny_?” 

Misty shudders, “Please don’t remind me. I don’t know what I was thinking dating a man who walked around outside wearing no shoes.”

Sam laughs, “Hey thank you, Misty.” because all teasing aside that’s what this was. Misty comforting Sam and taking him out of his headspace. 

She gives him a sweet smile, “Anytime.”

After a closing shift at work, Sam heats himself up some leftover mac and cheese for dinner and sits down in front of the computer. If he’s doing to make excuses to his best and most supportive friend about why he can’t go out, he might as well try and not make it a lie too. He opens up his document and reads where he last stopped writing. It’s in the middle of a sentence, because of course it is. 

_Warner and Frank looked up at each other. They knew that this was the_

Sam sighs. What were Warner and Frank doing? He thunks his head on the keyboard. This is why he doesn’t take breaks from writing. He’s going to half to spend half the night re-reading the 30,000 words he already has written to get a feel for the characters and tone again. 

He gets through about 10k when there’s a knock at the door. Sam’s annoyed instantly. It was just starting to get good. Warner and Frank were begrudgingly working together despite their yin and yang personalities. Sam was starting to feel really damn good about his world building. Whoever was outside was a real jerkoff.

It was Bucky. Of course.

“Hey handsome.” Buck slurs. He’s leaning against the doorframe like his life depends on it. Sam’s pretty sure that it does. 

“Jesus Bucky. How much have you had to drink?” 

“Too much. Steve met a girl named Sharon. S’cute little thing. But they were talking about the government and the wage gap and I got _bored_.” That’s another thing that makes Sam want to shake Bucky. The dude’s a millennial who doesn’t vote because he just _doesn’t care_. Sam opens his mouth to actually start to bitch Bucky out about it before he decides to save his breath since Bucky’s not going to remember this anyway. 

“So you drank a shit ton because you were bored and came here?”

“Uh huh,” Then Bucky lets loose one of those sly, cocky grins that usually have Sam ending up on his knees despite his better judgment. “Cuz I’ve been thinking about you non stop since last night.” Then he takes a step closer to Sam to kiss on him and ends up stumbling. Sam catches him. “You’re so strong too.” He gives Sam’s bicep a squeeze.

Sam rolls his eyes, “You can crash here. But I’m not having sex with you.” 

Bucky lets Sam walk him to the bedroom, but he pouts. “Why not?”

“Because you can’t consent right now. You can’t even walk right.”

“I only fell over like, once coming here.” 

“Yeah, the fact that you fell over at all is a decent red flag.” Sam sits Bucky down on the edge of his bed. Bucky keeps pouting, actually sticking his lower lip out like a three-year-old. 

“Take your shoes off.” Sam instructs. Bucky does, toeing himself out of his sneakers a foot at a time. His eyes are closed now while he’s sitting up. Sam needs to get him changed and some water in him before he passes out for real. He grips the edge of Bucky’s shirt to pull it off. He gets Bucky’s arms at chest level before Bucky whimpers in pain. “What’s wrong?” Sam asks.

“S’just my arm. Hurts today.” Bucky used to be a construction worker until he got into a pretty nasty work-accident four years ago. The doctors saved his left arm, but he has permanent nerve and muscle damage. He still attends physical therapy and has to get a surgery every once in awhile when the doctors find something else they want to poke. It doesn’t affect sex very much. Most of the time it doesn’t bother Bucky too badly. If it does, Bucky won't ever tell Sam, just grit through it until Sam notices and flips them or Bucky will play needing to change positions off in some sexy way that they both pretend works without Sam knowing the real reason why. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam says. He’s pretty taken aback by the fact that Bucky’s admitting he’s in pain at all. It’s something he’s never heard from the guy. He carefully ducks Bucky’s right arm out of his shirt, then lifts it over his head and slides it down his left arm. “There.” 

“Thank you.” Bucky mumbles. He lays down flat and unbuttons his jeans. Sam gives the bottoms a tug to pull Bucky out of them. Sam leaves him lying with his eyes closed on top of the covers and grabs Bucky a glass of water. He gives Buck a little shake to wake him back up and make him drink. Bucky grumbles but does, thanking Sam again after he’s done. Sam lays down next to Bucky and tucks the blankets around the both of them. Bucky gives a pleased sigh and rolls over to tuck himself into Sam. He gives Sam’s neck a little kiss. Sam can’t help it, he rolls over to face Bucky and presses their lips together gently. Bucky kisses back sloppily and with too much tongue. 

Sam pulls away, laughing, “That was awful. I should have known better.” 

Bucky shrugs. He hasn’t opened his eyes in like, ten minutes. Sam pulls him close to get him comfortable again. Bucky makes a happy noise and says, “You’re too good for me Sam,” nuzzling himself into Sam’s chest. 

Bucky’s already softly snoring before Sam can think of a reply.

Sam wakes up and Bucky's still there. His eyes widen comedically in shock. He forces himself to be completely still, as to not disturb the moment. Bucky looks beautiful in the morning light, just as Sam always thought he would. His hair’s all mussed and covering half his face. His lips are parted and he's still snoring softly, his hot breath coming out against Sam’s shoulder that's next to his face. He looks peaceful. His hand’s soft against Sam’s stomach. Sam can't help but stare, this is first time in the five years they've been fucking that Sam’s gotten so see Bucky like this. 

Sam pauses at that. Five years? There was the two years he was with Gabe. Then the six months he dated Joshua. The five weeks he fucked around with that guy from Spain (what was his name again?) and a very painful three months where he had a bit of a crisis and dated his childhood neighbor Jessica. Turns out she was gay too. It wasn't good for either of them. 

Through it all, through every break up and rough time- there was Bucky. Bucky had come to his college graduation, his niece’s first birthday party, his father’s funeral. Bucky had taken him out on the town to celebrate his promotions (when they had met Sam was a just sales associate at the bookstore). Bucky had read all of Sam’s short stories when Sam started preparing to write a book. Bucky had been someone for Sam to lean on for so long. They knew each other inside and out. Sam knew how to take Bucky apart so that he was gasping, crying out on every breath and Bucky knew just what to do to make Sam crazy. 

And this is the first time they've woken up together. 

Sam knows it's just because Bucky got too drunk to leave last night. Knowing Bucky’s irresponsible ass, he probably took a Percocet for his arm and decided to drink on it. Now Sam’s pissed. This isn't going to change shit. Waking up with Bucky feels wrong. He shoves Bucky roughly and says, “Wake up.”

Bucky startles and grimaces. He's probably hungover as fuck. “Huh?”

“You're still here.” Sam points out, his tone sharp.

Bucky’s eyes blink open. He stares at Sam with a mixture of confusion, awe and hurt before his face pales. “I gotta-” and then he's running to Sam’s bathroom to puke. 

When he's done, Sam cracks open the bathroom door to hand Bucky a toothbrush. The last thing he wants is for Bucky’s nasty ass puke mouth to touch his.

“Thanks for the...toothbrush and the sleepover and everything.” Bucky says when he's re-emerged from cleaning himself up. He's back dressed in his clothes from last night. Sam’s drinking a cup of delicious coffee while leaning up against his kitchen counter. “I'll get out of your hair.”

Even though Sam knows he implied that he wanted Bucky to leave, he feels crappy at the thought that it's actually going to happen. “You don't have to.” He says, “I make a really good hangover breakfast. Nice and greasy.”

Bucky gives him a little smile, “Nah it's okay. I have a paper to write anyway.” 

“Your semester going good?” Sam asks, delaying the inevitable. Since Bucky can no longer work construction, he's recently started attending classes over at Kingsborough Community College. He works part time in the tech department at the Stark Industries building in Brooklyn, a few blocks from where Sam lives. He'd gotten hired there pretty quickly after his initial recovery. Apparently Steve knows Tony Stark from his weird, government job. Bucky pretends like he doesn't know Steve pulled strings to get him hired with no experience. It pays well enough that he can afford his nice little apartment and still take classes part time too. 

“Yeah.” Bucky says with a noncommittal shrug. “Getting close to the end. I like my classes. I’m doing well.”

Neither of them offer any more to the conversation. The silences stretches and feels heavy in the room in ways it usually doesn't. “Anyway, I'm just gonna,” Bucky points to the door, “head out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam says with a little nod. 

“I'll text you.” Bucky bites his lip and looks in-between the front door and Sam for a moment. Then he closes the distance between them and gives Sam a little kiss. “I'm still thinking about the other night.” He says with a sly dumb grin and okay, whatever awkwardness due to real emotion that they were feeling is gone now. 

Sam laughs, “Get out.” He says, since he can't really stand to look at Bucky anymore. 

After his cup of coffee, Sam retreats back to his bed. He lays down on the side Bucky slept on. He breathes Bucky’s scent in and tries to imagine a scenario where things had gone differently. 

 

Sam’s spent the day kind of sulking, kind of cleaning his apartment. He’s settling down to watch some ‘Mr. Robot’ (that Rami Malek guy is _fine_. Sam doesn’t care what anyone else says about him) when there’s a knock at his door. He huffs and gets up. He doubts it’s Bucky this time.

He’s wrong. Bucky’s not drunk, but what Sam sees is even worse. 

“Are you…” he says slowly, “taking a trip?”

Bucky has a giant suitcase and two duffel bags next to him. He adjusts the smaller laptop bag on his shoulder. “Uh, no.”

“So...why...do you have all this shit?”

Bucky chuckles nervously, “Well see, that’s a funny story. Can I come in?”

It’s not a funny story. It’s a dumb story because Bucky’s landlord had been gambling away his tenants rent money for months. Today guys from the bank had shown up to put the building in foreclosure. Then the inspectors found the mold. 

“So they want you to get medical testing?” Sam asks. “Your place seemed pretty nice to me.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bucky says, taking a long pull from his beer, since that’s what this situation calls for. “Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Apparently Mrs. Johnson upstairs has had a leak in her pipes for like, ten years or something, I don’t know. But yeah, the entire place is infested with black mold and now I have to get all these scans because that shit is toxic.” 

“Wow, that’s pretty wild. They paying for any of it?”

“Yeah. My landlord’s homeowners is paying for it.”

“They gonna find you a new place to stay?”

“Uh well,” Bucky starts chuckling. He always chuckles when he’s really fucking uncomfortable. Sam doesn’t like where this is going at all. “Apparently that falls into some kind of black hole where I’d have to do a civil suit against my landlord after I’ve already found a place.”

Sam takes a deep breath. Here it comes. 

“So I was wondering if I could stay with you? Just for a few weeks until my semester ends. I don’t have enough money to get into a new place, but I can pay rent. In December when the semester ends I’m gonna go stay with Steve. I can find somewhere to enroll down there.” 

“Sure.” he says, automatically. He cares about Bucky too much to say no. His parents live in New Jersey now and his sister somewhere in Texas so Sam’s probably the only person he can ask. 

“Really?” Bucky’s big eyes light up. “Oh man. Thanks Sam! You’re the best!” Then he moves over to where Sam’s sitting in the recliner and sits on Sam’s lap. “The best.” he starts kissing all over Sam’s cheeks.

Sam laughs, “I want half rent and you gotta promise to clean up after yourself. “

“I promise. I promise.” Then Bucky moves his mouth lower, onto Sam’s neck. “I’m gonna be the best roommate you’ve ever had.” His voice is thick. He’s getting turned on. 

“You’re doing the dishes when I cook.” Sam says, trying to keep his voice from getting breathy. 

“Uh huh.” Bucky drawls. He finds the spot behind Sam’s ear that he knows Sam loves and gives it a nip. Sam shudders. 

“And when,” Sam has to stop and breathe, “and when I don’t feel like having you in my bed you gotta sleep on the couch.” 

Bucky snorts into Sam’s neck. “When do you feel like not having me in your bed?” Then he reaches down to palm Sam’s dick through his pants. Sam can’t think of an answer after that. 

 

When Misty can control herself enough to wipe the tears out of her eyes she says, “So let me get this straight. Binky, who you’ve been pining over for like a year and fucking for like a hundred years can’t live at his apartment anymore so you let him move in?” Then she doubles over with laughter again, pounding her fist on Sam’s desk. 

Sam glares at her. “ _Bucky_. And Yes.”

“Sam that is too good. That is some serious soap opera shit right there. When’s the wedding?”

“We’re not getting married.” 

“Just you wait. Next it will be that Bonky is actually _Boris_ and he needs a green card. You’ll have to marry him to keep your secretely Russian lover from being deported.”

“Bucky’s Irish, or Italian or something. His parents live in New Jersey.”

Misty’s still laughing, “That’s what he wants you to think.” 

Sam groans and rests his head on his desk. “I regret ever telling you anything ever in my entire life.”

Misty finishes laughing and says, “You should try and date again.”

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Well because you know this thing with Barky Bonkers isn't going anywhere. Plus, in a month or whatever he’s going to live in DC with your other white friend, the one you actually should have dated.”

“Steve’s not into men.” 

Misty shrugs, “You could have turned him out. Or at least given me his number back when he lived here. Those shoulders…” Then Misty loses herself a little daydreaming about Steve. “Anyway! He’s leaving. He’ll be out of your life in just a few weeks. He said it himself, he's going to enroll in a new college there. He’s not coming back any time soon. It’s time to start moving on, Sam.”

Just like that the floor drops out underneath Sam. He feels like he’s diving out of a plane with no parachute. He’d been so focused on the fact that Bucky would be living with him, that he hadn’t even realized that the guy he’s fucking and also madly in love with is actually going to be leaving in just a few short weeks. 

Sam takes his glasses off and sets them down on his desk. He looks up at Misty. She looks concerned, like she just saw Sam’s entire realization happen. She probably did. He tries a smile for her sake. “You’re right.” 

 

By the time Sam get’s home, Bucky’s made him spaghetti and meatballs. They eat dinner sitting side by side on the couch, watching The Rangers play The Flyers. Neither of them are hockey fans. Sam has no idea why they’re watching it. Sam puts his empty plate down on the coffee table next to Bucky’s and decides that climbing into Bucky’s lap is a better idea. 

“Well hello,” Bucky says, grinning and sliding his hands up Sam’s thighs to grip his ass. “You have a good day at work today, baby?” 

Sam blinks at the question, at the domesticity of everything that’s happened since he’s gotten home. “Yeah.” he says flatly.

Bucky pouts his mouth a little and kneads at Sam’s ass. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Just a lot of… employee issues.” Sam lies, giving Bucky a little smile. He doesn't want to think about what he and Misty talked about right now. 

Bucky furrows his brow. He doesn’t believe Sam. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No. I want you to fuck me.” Then he kisses Bucky to shut him the hell up. Bucky groans into the kiss when Sam opens it up with his tongue. Their mouths move together effortlessly, tasting and licking and teasing each other. Bucky keeps gripping and kneading at Sam’s ass, rocking him back and forth on his lap. 

Bucky reaches up and pulls Sam’s shirt off, nibbling at the freshly bare skin on Sam’s collarbone and chest. Sam lets his head loll back and groans. 

“You like it when I mark you up?” Bucky asks, low and dirty. 

“Yeah.” Sam says, because he does. Makes him feel like whatever he and Bucky have is something real. 

Bucky moans and the response, and licks his tongue over the newest bite-mark, soothing it. He reaches down and takes off his own shirt, throwing it to the floor. “Stand up so I can get you naked, baby.” 

Sam does. Bucy inches to the edge of the couch so that he can press a kiss on Sam’s lower belly. He undoes Sam’s belt and jeans and slides them off. Then he sticks his face back into Sam’s crotch and mouths at his dick through his underwear. Sam’s eyes flutter shut. Bucky carefully takes Sam out of his boxers and gives the head of his hard dick a few licks. Sam moans, “Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky grins up at him, encouraged and sucks Sam down into his mouth as far as his boxers willl allow. Sam moans again and grips Bucky’s hair for purchase. He gives it a little yank just to feel the noise that Bucky always makes around his cock. 

“Come on, Bucky I-” Sam says when he feels himself start to get close. He wants to come around Bucky’s cock. Bucky pulls off of him with a loud and obscene pop. 

“We need lube.” Sam whines, pulling off his boxers. Bucky smirks and reaches down in-between the couch cushions, producing a bottle. “What the fuck? That’s some gay-sex boy scout shit.”

Bucky shrugs, “Always be prepared.” 

He gets himself naked and has Sam sit back in his lap. Bucky kisses him, slow and sweet as he opens Sam up with his fingers. By the third, Sam’s a gasping, shuddering mess in his lap. 

Bucky holds Sam’s hips and sinks him down slowly onto his slick dick. Sam rests there when he’s fully seated for a moment, getting his wits about him again. He gives Bucky a kiss that turns out to be long and slow, just the two of them joined but unmoving. Sam thinks for a second that the kiss feels a lot like love. He moves his hips to get rid of the notion in his mind. 

Sam rocks and rolls on Bucky’s lap with Bucky’s hands guiding him the entire time. Sam’s moaning on every breath, barely keeping it together. Bucky’s not fairing much better. 

He throws his head back onto the couch, “Fuck, Sam. I love when you ride me.”

Sam shudders in response. Bucky gets the memo, just as he always does. Sam wants more talking. He lets his hand trace up and down Sam’s crack as he brings his face back close to Sam’s again. 

“You like it too. You like being split open on my cock.” 

Sam groans and nods. Bucky traces the outside of Sam’s hole where he’s so full and wet. It makes Sam whine and increase the pace that he’s moving his hips. 

“Yeah baby,” Bucky gasps, “That’s it. You’re so good. You’re gonna make me come. I love it, I love-” 

Sam’s tightening up, gasping and moaning as his orgasm crashes around him. His dick shoots come hot and sticky all over his stomach and Bucky’s chest. Bucky starts to come when he feels Sam tightening around him. He moans long and low and holds Sam’s hips in place as he fills him up. 

It goes like that for the first two weeks. They work, Bucky goes to school. They come home and one of them makes dinner. They move around in each other’s space with ease. They fuck. They laugh. They sleep together. Every morning they wake up together and Sam gets to see Bucky’s face again and again in the soft morning light. He catches himself staring way too much, like if he looks long enough he’ll be able to live in the sweet morning moments forever. It feels really domestic and nice- too domestic and nice for what Sam knows is coming. 

A week before Bucky’s supposed to leave Sam decides that it’s now or never. He’s going to tell Bucky how he feels. The worst that will happen is Bucky will leave anyway. The best...well Sam’s trying to stick with the worst case scenario. He gets home to find Bucky sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by textbooks, note cards and papers. His living room looks like a bomb went off inside an office supply store. 

“Whoa.” Sam says. 

Bucky looks up at him, looking rather guilty. “I’m sorry. This is just how I study best.” Then his eyes grow large. “Fuck! I forgot to make dinner!”

“It’s okay. I’ll order a pizza.” Sam says, trying to give Bucky an encouraging smile. 

Bucky’s too busy studying on the floor to offer any conversation during dinner. Sam doesn’t blame him, he remembers how horrible studying for finals is. When he gathers their plates and cups and brings them to the sink, Bucky follows him. 

Bucky wraps his arms around Sam’s middle and gives the back of his neck a kiss. “I bet you can’t wait to have this place all to yourself again huh?”

“No...it’s-” Sam tries. He really wants to just scream I LOVE YOU at the top of his lungs but then Bucky starts talking again.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think there’s anything that could make me stay in New York at this point. You’ll have your place all to yourself in a few days.” Then he gives Sam’s cheek a kiss and stalks back into the living room to study some more. Sam lets out a long slow breath. There goes that, then. Sam doesn't even bother trying again. 

The night before Bucky leaves, they have sex one last time. Neither of them mention it, but they both know that’s what it is. They both go all out, making each other feel as good as possible, as if they could put the past few years in a box and this was the bow they’d stick on top. A final happy memory. A final time of making each other feel damn good. They huddle up into each other's silently after they're done. _You don't have to leave,_ Sam knows he should say, _I love you and love having you hear with me. This has been the most enjoyable weeks of basically my entire life_. Instead, he doesn't say anything at all. Just gives Bucky a sweet kiss and settles into sleep. 

The next morning, Sam wakes up alone in his bed for the first time in weeks. He rolls over, stuffs his face into Bucky’s pillow, breathes in his scent and lets himself cry.

 

“Maybe this is what I needed, you know?” Sam tells Misty a few days later at work. 

She eyes him skeptically. “Sam you look like shit.”

Sam sags, “I know. I...I haven’t been sleeping too well.” 

She comes up behind him and gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “Let me set you up.” 

“Yeah, Okay.”

The guy Misty sets him up with is nice. He’s tall and handsome. His name is John and he’s an executive at some bank in town. He’s polite and kind. He’s well-read and knows about politics and world issues (as he should). He asks about Sam’s day without teasing him. He gives Sam a gentle kiss after their first date. Sam tries not to hate himself for wishing he was more like Bucky.

Sam spends the holidays with his family in Harlem. He has a good time and comes back to himself a little, since this isn’t the time of year that he’d normally spend with Bucky anyway. He and Misty go out on New Year’s Eve with John and Misty’s new boyfriend Luke. He and John kiss at midnight. When he pulls out his phone to check it, he sees a new message from Bucky that reads ‘happy new year!’ with a gun emoji, the eggplant emoji and a horse emoji next to it. Sam lets himself smile fondly at the dumb message for a moment before he deletes it without replying. 

Sam eventually tells John he’s not in the right mental space to date. John gives him a soft smile and tells him that he knew. John wishes him luck getting the person he’s in love with back. Then he gives Sam a hug when Sam says that it’s never going to happen.

 

Bucky’s been gone for 37 days when Sam hears a knock at his front door. 

“Bucky?” He looks like a wet dog. His hair’s sticking to his face and his clothes are soaked. 

“Hey,” he says, breathless. 

Sam holds out his hands expectantly then drops them back at his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a doctor’s appointment.” He says with a little shrug. 

“Did it...did it go well?” Sam asks, he still has no idea why Bucky’s here.

Bucky nods, then looks to his wet shoes. 

They're silent for a minute, and Sam stares at Bucky hard. “Why are you here Bucky?” He asks softly. He knows that Bucky could have easily hopped back on a bus down to DC.

“You let me let you let me leave.” Bucky says.

Sam works it over in his brain. “What the fuck?”

Bucky sighs, like Sam should have understood. “You let me...let you...let me leave.”

Sam flings his hands in the air. He pulls Bucky inside his apartment and shuts the door behind him. Bucky sags back against the door and tries to stuff his hands in his pockets. He gives up after realizing they're basically adhered to his skin from the rain. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam questions. Bucky's making no fucking sense. “Are you sure your appointment went okay? They didn't have to drug you or anything right?”

“Yes! Yes. It was fine. I'm not on anything. I just- I fucking suck at this shit Sam.”

“What shit? I literally have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Telling you I miss you.” Bucky meets his eyes again. “Telling you I wish you had fought for me to stay even though I didn't give you any reason to make you think I might have wanted to.”

Sam laughs, bitterly. “So what? We could keep having no-strings-attached sex and then taking a break every few years to date somebody else? No thanks, Buck.”

Bucky clenches his fists at his sides. “Sam that's all you. I haven't dated anyone else in five years.”

Sam furrows his brow and racks his brain. Bucky’s _fucking right_. He's been single this entire time. He has to be wrong, has to- “You couldn't even spend the night after we fucked. You didn't want a relationship. You would have said so.”

Bucky takes a big shuddering breath, “Because I didn't think that's what you wanted! Every time I was about to ask you out, you'd start dating someone else!”

“You had shitty timing then!” Sam says, defensively. He can't fucking believe this.

“No you did! Plus, you didn't spend the night at my apartment either!”

“Because you had black mold!”

“You didn't fucking know that until like six weeks ago!”

Sam huffs and racks his brain for something else to say, what comes out is: “I love you!”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he laughs hysterically before saying, “I fucking love you too!” Then they're crashing together against Sam’s front door. He's so going to get a noise complaint written for that fight but he doesn't care. Bucky’s lips feel so good against his, kissing him desperately.

“So you're telling me…” He says, panting, when they've broke apart, “that all we had to do was communicate a little?”

Bucky makes a face like he's thinking about it really hard, “Yes that is what I'm saying.”

“God we’re idiots!” Sam says, laughing. 

Bucky laughs too, “Yeah but we’re each other’s idiots.” Then he pauses and gets serious. “That's what just happened, right?”

Sam gives him another kiss as a reply.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” Bucky tells him him after he’s gotten his nasty, wet clothes off. 

He lays Sam out and takes him apart before putting him back together again. Sam does the same for him. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. It's-

“That felt,” Sam says, panting flat on his back next to Bucky, “exactly the fucking same.”

“Ugh I know!” Bucky says, “Have we been making love this entire time too?”

Sam grins, “I think so.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Bucky says, laughing at their own stupidity. “We need serious help.”

Sam agrees.

Five days later, they finally extract themselves from Sam’s bed to go back down to DC to collect Bucky’s stuff. 

“So wait…” Steve says, “you're telling me you've been fucking each other this entire time?” He looks a little dazed. He sits down hard on the couch. “So is that why you basically have been sitting here like a lump for the past month Bucky?”

“Basically.” Bucky says. “Well that and I couldn't get signed up at the college in time and didn't have a job. Plus you have a really comfy couch.”

Steve stares at them harder. “I can't believe it took you guys _five years_ of fucking to realize you're in love.”

“I knew I loved Bucky for like, a year and a half now.” Sam corrects, “So technically, it only took that long for a love _confession_.” 

“I've loved you for three.” Bucky admits, looking over to Sam with a small smile.

Sam feels dopey. “Aww, baby.” He gives Bucky a kiss.

“Gross.” Steve says, “I liked it better when you two pretended to not talk.”

They both laugh and kiss some more. Steve will get over it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! xoxo
> 
> Follow me on  tumblr  for endless Sambucky.


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